


Blue and Yellow

by ab2fsycho



Series: Hold My Tea and Watch This [2]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Confrontation, Earl Grey does things to me, First Kiss, Jack gets irritated, M/M, Pitch is holding out, hence the change in maturity, little bit of light bondage, nothing too serious, yet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:04:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ab2fsycho/pseuds/ab2fsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Frost demands to know why Pitch Black saved his life. Pitch would like to know why he did so as well, because this particular Guardian is annoying him. But he decides to make do with what fun there is to be had in this situation. This time, Jack is the one who reacts interestingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue and Yellow

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why was there a winter spirit in Pitch’s lair? More specifically, why was Jack Frost pestering him now?

Pitch stayed in the shadows, letting Jack’s paranoia run wild. He had to admit that Jack’s nervousness made him feel quite good. If only he could turn that feeling into fear. Then things would get very fun very fast.

“Pitch, I know you’re here,” the boy said, holding his crook close to his body as he searched the shadows with careful blue eyes.

“What do you want, Frost?” Pitch asked, still moving in the darkness without being detected. He smirked as the boy jumped at the sound of his voice.

“I want to know why you saved me,” the young Guardian answered honestly.

“Such an ungrateful question,” Pitch grumbled, throwing his voice across the room. Another delightful jump. This was definitely going to be fun if Jack kept reacting like this. “Shouldn’t you just be happy I let you live?”

“I’m not sure which is creepier,” the boy murmured. “You not showing your face, or you suggesting I be happy.”

Pitch’s laughter filled the room. Jack almost dropped his staff as he spun about looking for the source. This only made Pitch laugh more. “You always come to the most interesting conclusions about me.”

“Stop playing with me—.”

“Oh, but I thought you were the Guardian of Fun! Games are your thing, are they not?”

“Not your games. I don’t want to play your games. I just want an answer.” The boy collected himself just enough to continue searching the darkness. Something about what Jack said irritated Pitch. It could have been the obvious reminder that Jack had cruelly turned down Pitch’s offer to join forces with him. How long has it been? A year? Maybe two. Pitch didn’t care. The disappointment was still just as fresh as if it had been that morning.

Pitch threw his voice again, making it seem like he were right behind Jack. “You know the answer as well as I do.” He spoke colder than before, which made Jack’s hands start to shake as he turned about only to be faced with nothing. His startled expression was almost enough to drive away Pitch’s irritation.

Almost. What Pitch really needed to make him feel better was Jack’s fear, but it was becoming more and more frustrating to force it out of him. He already knew loneliness would elicit something in Jack. It had been a soft spot in the boy for centuries until the Guardians had helped him overcome it. Pitch wanted to find a new fear to tackle within the boy. However, he didn’t want to reveal his location just yet, but getting personal may be the only way to get what Pitch wanted.

“Are you telling me you don’t know why you saved me?” Anger. It looked so strange and yet so interesting on little Jack Frost’s face. It wasn’t quite as lovely as his fear, but it evoked something within Pitch. That odd feeling again, he thought to himself. He remembered how draining the black sand from Jack’s body had brought that feeling on for the first time. What was it? The lack of knowledge succeeded in frustrating him further.

“What if I did know?” Pitch didn’t know. “Why would I have to tell you anyway?” Nosy little brat.

“It’s my life!” Jack shouted, his anger rising. For some reason, Pitch was beginning to find this rage quite entertaining. At the same time, he was also growing incredibly annoyed with Jack’s behavior.

Then something dawned on him. “Are you sure you just don’t want to owe me anything?”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.” He wasn’t getting startled at Pitch’s shadow tricks anymore.

“Oh, of course not. Just your life.” Sarcasm seeped from Pitch’s words.

“I didn’t ask for you to save me.” Such an indignant attitude was only good for getting the boy killed. Jack didn’t seem to realize that.

“Technically, I didn’t ask for any of you to help restore my control, but things were getting out of hand and I was grateful. Grateful enough to let you all walk out alive. You should take note.” Pitch grimaced as Jack shot a bolt of ice in his general direction. His location remained concealed, but that had been entirely too close for comfort.

“Why did you do it?!”

“This conversation is getting redundant. And a tantrum isn’t going to make me give you an answer any faster.” Pitch’s irritation sprouted full force this time. The boy was really testing his luck with the Nightmare King.

“I’m not leaving without an answer,” Jack said, shooting another ice bolt across the room.

Pitch growled. “My patience is at an end, Frost. Leave now before I show you what a nightmare can really do,” Pitch warned, his voice completely surrounding Jack. “Your Guardian friends were smart enough to listen to me the last time I told them to leave. You’d do better to follow their example.”

The winter spirit was unabashed. “Don’t hold out on me, now. Face me, Boogeyman!”

Oh, Pitch was more than pleased to grant him his foolish wish.



As soon as the words left Jack’s lips, he regretted them. Before he could turn around, his crook was yanked out of his hands and thrown into the shadows below the walkway he was on.

“NO!” He fell to his knees, searching the seemingly bottomless pit of darkness for his staff. He saw nothing, knew it was no use. Panic rose up within him when he became aware of a long shadow looming over him. He couldn’t get back on his feet; his whole body was shaking entirely too much and Pitch was just too damn close. He kicked at the floor, pushing himself further from the Nightmare King. Those burning yellow eyes followed him, a row of fangs flashing as Pitch smirked down at him. Jack’s breathing tripled, his heart bursting from the speed at which it was going. Pitch had always been tall, but he seemed like a giant now that Jack was on the ground.

Pitch chuckled as Jack continued to kick away from him. “I’m beginning to see your fear, Jack. Do continue to let it grow.”

“Stay back!” Jack choked out.

“Oh, don’t be like that Jack. Things are just getting fun again.”

At that moment, Jack’s back hit a wall. When the hell had that gotten there? Why hadn’t he noticed it before? His attention flashed back from the wall to the towering figure before him. He caught himself from shouting as shadows rose up at Pitch’s back, giving the impression that he was even taller than in reality. He wanted to run, scream, anything but beg him to stop. Somehow his pride was still functioning enough that he refused to beg for mercy even now. He tried to speak, “Pitch—.”

That was when a hand lurched forward and clasped the collar of Jack’s sweatshirt, dragging him up the wall so that his feet were dangling and he was at eye level with Pitch. “That’s better,” Pitch muttered. “Now I don’t have to crane my neck to look at you.”

Jack wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen a more ominous glare directed at him. Coupled with a daggered smile, he was almost certain he was looking into the face of doom. Before he could say another word, he found himself pinned to the wall by . . . shadows. Shadows locked around his wrists, shoulders, ankles, and middle. He was pinned up on the wall like an insect on display. “No—,” he was cut off by another shadow, which gagged him. His eyes widened, focusing on Pitch’s face.

“Ah, there it is,” Pitch whispered, barely audible. “Shame I had to resort to such physical means to bring out the fear in you. I do prefer to keep my hands clean. Literally, at least.” His pride was gone. Jack screamed against the gag. He fought the bonds, but how does one fight something so intangible? Intangible, and yet he was bound. He squeezed his eyes shut, still screaming. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Frost. I’m not even hurting you.” Jack opened his eyes just enough to see the leer on Pitch’s face. “I don’t need to. These bonds are enough to drive you wild.”

He struggled, screaming as yellow eyes bored into him. His throat felt raw by the time he realized that watching was all the Nightmare King intended to do. As soon as he realized that Pitch didn’t intend to do anything other than that, his anger ignited. His blue, panicked eyes squinted, and he let loose a series of obscenities at Pitch that he was almost grateful for the gag to have drowned out. He began fighting harder against the binds, wanting nothing more than to tear that smug look off Pitch’s face.

“Are you quite done?” Pitch asked, his expression almost bored. Jack’s next row of curses made Pitch laugh. “Unfortunately, your fear was a lot tastier than this rage, and I suspect your language has grown quite vulgar by now.” He turned his back on Jack, and just as the Guardian thought that he was going to be left strung up on the wall, the shadows released him and he collapsed on his hands and knees. He takes just a brief moment to suck in a lungful of air through his mouth to reassure himself the gag is gone before digging his bare feet into the stone and launching himself into a sprint at Pitch. The Nightmare King was just about to disappear into the lair’s shadows when he turned to see Jack crashing into him. 

Both fell to the floor, Jack landing on top of Pitch. Grabbing Pitch’s forearms and holding him down, Jack shouted, “Alright, you shit! You wanna talk about ungrateful, well you’re in for a rude awakening. I was the one who suggested that we help you get your Nightmares back. I convinced the Guardians that your black dream sand, the stuff that killed Sandy, the stuff that almost killed me, would be better off under your control than roaming free throughout the world. Without me, you would still be cowering under a bed!” In his anger, he’d started gesticulating, which meant that Pitch’s arms were free. When Jack finished what had only been the beginning of his rant, he found that Pitch had flipped him onto his back and, in turn, pinned him to the ground. He wasn’t shaking with fear. He hadn’t been for what felt like some time now. He was shaking because he wanted to strangle Pitch for continually restraining him and denying him a say in the matter.

“And why, pray tell, were you compelled to help me? After what you’ve done? What made you think I wanted any of you to help me?” Pitch’s voice was little more than a snarl, his long nose inches from Jack’s.

“Because I—,” he choked. “I—.” Why couldn’t he speak suddenly? “Godammit!”

“Cut the crudity and answer me!”

At that, Jack shut his mouth and returned Pitch’s glare. After a brief time of silence, he whispered, “How does it feel having information withheld from you?” Pitch roared (at least, it sounded like a roar by Jack’s standards) and dug his claws into Jack’s arms before standing and stalking back towards the wall. Jack sat up, barely aware of the red marks and bruises forming where Pitch’s talons had torn his skin. He just watched Pitch lean with his hand against the wall Jack had been pinned to mere moments ago. After another brief time of silence, Jack sighed and said, “I felt guilty.”

Pitch scoffed. “For ruining me?”

“For not—,” Jack couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he say it? Because it felt like he would be renouncing his Guardianship, that’s why. He sighed again. “For not accepting your friendship when I had the chance to.” Pitch didn’t look at him. He just leaned on the wall, his face unreadable. “Under different circumstances, we probably could’ve worked something out.”

“You refused to be feared—.”

“And I will always refuse. I don’t thrive on fear, Pitch. But we could’ve—.”

“What? Been friends?” Pitch finally looked at him, his sneer making Jack’s blood boil again. 

Jack stood, clenching his fists. “Let me make this clear again: I hate everything you stand for. I may even hate you. But when I actually stop and let myself think about it, I find that I really do feel guilty. I do regret not knowing you earlier. And godammit—!” Jack grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. When he looked back up, Pitch was watching him even more intently than before.

“Do continue,” Pitch uttered. There was no smugness in his voice. There was no malice. And somehow, that made Jack angrier.

Jack took a few large steps to the Nightmare King, his mouth clenched into a sharp line as he withheld another angry shout. Pitch was unabashed by his approach until Jack grabbed his robes. Pitch glared, and before he could demand the winter spirit to unhand him, Pitch was rendered silent.

By Jack’s lips on his.

**Author's Note:**

> Tea was involved. Just not twenty cups of tea, thankfully. I should lose control under the influence of tea more often.


End file.
